


Septiplier as Spideypool

by blagamuffin



Category: Marvel (Comics), Septiplier - Fandom, Youtube RPF, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Deadpool admiring Spiderman, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Secret Identities, Septiplier as Spideypool, marvel AU, not roleplaying, some blood, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blagamuffin/pseuds/blagamuffin
Summary: This is one of my ships au as another one of my ships.I’ve had this idea for a while now but forgot about it. It wasn’t until thisfanartcame across the septiplier tag and I remembered this idea. Basically this is how I see Septiplier if they were spideypool.Notes: no smut, kinda angsty, kinda fluff, bit of bloodfrom the aftermath of mentioned violence.Again.. pure fictioninspired byicarus-descends fanart





	1. Pier 23

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a roleplaying fantasy. Idea is that it's an alternate universe where Mark Fischbach is losely living Wade Wilson's life and Jack McLoughlin is losely living Peter Perker's life.
> 
> I literally mashed up two of my favorite ships. Story has elements of both the youtuber's life and the life of the Marvel characters.

Seeing his current predicament right now you might be asking ‘Hey Spiderman, how did you manage to get into that mess?’ and I there can only be one answer; “DEADPOOL!”

“That’s me!” The aforementioned vigilante spoke between gritted teeth.

“What are you talking about?” the slimmer of the two asked.

“Hey! Are you calling me fat fic writer?!?” the more muscly of the two asked. “Oh muscly… I like that. Please continue with you’re narration.”

If we could see Spiderman underneath his mask right now we’d see his heavy brows scrunched together in confusion from what the other man must be babbling about. It really wouldn’t be the first time.

××× 2 hours earlier ×××

Tonight was like any other patrol night for the young superhero. He had gotten a call that a shipment of some high grade narcotics were coming into the pier tonight. If his information was correct then cargo would be right here in warehouse 23.

The plan was simple really; swing in, incapacitate the henchmen, call the police, and let them handle the paper work. It was supposed to be simple.

Until a couple of the henchmen brought in a captured ‘superhero’. and revealed the deadly mercenary himself. They threatened him. He joked around. They laughed. He got out of his bindings and killed most of them before they could even finish laughing.

But before he could finish them all off, even more men ran in and surrounded the other masked man. Spiderman swung in welcomed by an enthusiastic mercenary who didn’t even seem to notice the bullets going through his torso.

These henchmen weren’t particularly good but they were a lot of them and they were well armed. But by the end of a good 30 minutes of fighting they had taken most of them down, sustaining a couple of injuries of their own. Personally, Spiderman’s right arm was killing him but he ignored it.

“What are you doing here Deadpool?” he asked vehemently.

“This my turn in the flashback now?” he asked sarcastically. “Well, from what I can guess we got about the same intel. Heard there was new shipment coming for DiMarco and thought ‘Hey, I haven’t done a drug bust in a long time. Let’s do it!’” He explained as he picked out the two bullets from shoulder.

“And may ask who inspired this ‘great act’ of kindness towards the community?” He asked.

“Uh oh…” the katana wielder replied sounding flustered. “No one?”

“Cut the crap Deadpool!” Spiderman cursed, which made Deadpool mock gasp. “Who hired you? And what were you planning to do with the drugs?”

But before the other man could defend himself they heard the a ruckus from the entrance of the warehouse where they saw DiMarco himself with a smirk on his face and a remote control in hand.

Everything that happened after that was like a blur. There was a loud explosion. Sudden brightness of fire from overhead shocking both their eyesights. The last thing Spiderman saw was the warehouse falling on top of him and the weight of someone else before that.

××× now ×××

Which brought them to now. Spiderman coughed from the dust and gunpower in the air. He was half expecting tons of steel crushing him to oblivion by now. But when the dust settled, the smoke somewhat cleared, and his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, what he saw was not what he was expecting.

Deadpool. He was hovering over him. His arms outstretched. His hands were on either side of his head. His whole body was trembling from the weight he had expected to crush him.

“Wakey-wakey, Spidey-widey…” he teased between grunts.

“What are you doing?” Spiderman asked, a stupid question as he will later realize.

“Well you know, the fucking ceiling was falling on top of your Spidey goodness and I had already called dibs.” He seemed to have found the energy to flirt at a moment like this.

From below, Spiderman tried to lift his arms up and to try to push the rubble up and off them. But before he even could, he grunted in pain.

“Don’t move.” The man above commanded. “I saw you hurt your wrist earlier, you ok?” he asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

“I’m fine.” he answered, not very convincingly as he held his right arm against his chest as if trying to protect it.

“Sure you are Spidey… just rest your pretty little arm and let me, the expert, handle this.” he boasted.

“Expert?! Oh you’ve been trapped under tons of burning rubble before?”

“Yes, multiple times actually.” He replied. “How’d you think I got so massively swole?”

“You can’t see it right now but I’m risking my eyesight by rolling my eyes so far back my skull I just might find that part of my brain that thought it was a good idea to help you! “ he yelled at the other man.

“Hey, nice fake accent.” He pointed out casually, like they weren’t in a life or death situation right now.

“What?!”

“You’re accent. It’s all Americanized and shit.”

“I am American!” he enunciated clearly.

“Wow… to find out New York’s finest superhero is a big fat fake…” he sassed the man underneath him. “What shall we ever say to the children?” he mocked.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “I’m not faking anything.”

“Suit yourself.” He replied, continue to tease. And suddenly, his shoulders seemed to buckle and break as the weight of the rubble pushed him down on his elbow even closer to the other man.

“JEYSUS FUCKING CRYST!!!” Spiderman shouted as he braced himself for the impact that never came.

“Ohh…. You’re Irish.” The mercenary pointed out. “That’s so cute. I should kiss you coz you’re Irish. But I won’t. Tell me, you keep your Spidey gold at the end of the rainbow or you keep them in that damn fine butt of yours? Is Spiderman secretly a leprechaun? A sexy leprechaun?” he teased.

“You are such an asshole.”  He cussed as he held his healing wrist to his chest.

He knew there was no point to talking sense to the, who he presumed to be, older man over him. He was fucking impossible. He’d been avoiding him like the plague ever since he moved into New York. Deadpool was trouble and what better proof was there than being almost crushed to death by rubble with the other guy.

The key word was ‘almost’ crushed. The thought made him look up and check on him. Not that he particularly cared, but caring was natural for him. The other man seemed to be struggling under the weight but sharing no complaints. His head, his neck, and his broad shoulders seemed to shake from the pressure. It wasn’t until he was looking directly at the other man’s chest when he noticed.

“Jeysus…” he cussed again as he instinctively reached out to touch the protruding bone still under the red and black suit.

“Oh yeah,” he said as if he had just noticed the injury. “You mind popping that back in.”

“You broke your fucking collarbone!” he pointed out the painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and do you mind?” he asked again. “It’s gonna heal pretty quick and if it stays in that position it’s gonna heal all wonky like that, and I’m gonna have to break it again and adjust and that’s just a pain in my ugly ass and…”

“Alright.. alright..” he conceded as he reached out feeling for the bone and where it was supposed to connect. With gentle force, he popped the bone in together to where it’s supposed to be and kept his hand there. He didn’t even feel the other man wince. “So, it’s true then? What they say about you?”

“Ohh what do they say about me?” he asked excitedly. “That I’m swole? That I’m devilishly charming? Not like I’d ever want to? Like I can fit like 20 glow sticks in my mouth? That I can crush a baby’s skull if I ever wanted to?” he trailed off.

“That you regenerate.” He cut him off. “Even better than Wolverine.”

“Hehe… Dear ole wolfie…” he teased. “Got that from the man himself. Well not directly from him, but from the people who sorta kinda made him. So I wouldn’t say I’m better at it than him.”

“What do you mean people who made him?” he asked. “Thought he was a mutant. How was he made?”

“No, not made. More like improved upon. I mean if you could even improve on that hunka man…” he whistled but continued on. “From what I know couple of suits recruited us Canadians who got special traits and shit and promised to make us stronger, faster, yada-yada.”

“Special traits? So you’re a mutant too?” he asked, his curious nature getting the best of him.

“They think I was and my mutant gene was just shy and needing a little push.” He joked about it. “Well they fucking shoved it the fuck out of me. Tests and trials, the whole shebang. Was fucking torture and I came out of it the freak I am now today.”

“Why would you ever let them do that to you?” he asked.

“Tumor.” He said plainly. “Had a massive tumor growing in my adrenal glands. Which wouldn’t be so bad until they grew some more and spread. Finally I just felt like I had no other option. My mom kicked me out. My boss fired me. My girlfriend left. So I thought, what’s the worse that could happen? Ha-fucking-ha joke of my life, the damn universe took it as a fucking challenge. Let’s see how far we can fuck this guy up.”

The young Irishman laid there looking up at this other man basically telling him his life story while he literally held their lives on the weight of his back. He didn’t know what to think of it. He definitely felt guilty, thinking the very worst of the man and never really considering more from him.

“You know what’s the worst part is?” Deadpool asked, almost introspectively.

“What?” he asked almost breathlessly being so caught up by the man’s story.

“I used to be so hot…” he said it like it was the biggest fucking tragedy.

“Oh God!” he groaned, if he had space to face-palm himself to death he just might have.

“No seriously though,” the continued. “I mean I wasn’t the hottest shit ever, but compared to now I might as well have been. Had all this dark raven hair, dark eyes, and tan skin. I used to be so hot. Now, I’m like canned corned beef molded into a meat suit. Under all this I look as bad as that blob thing from the end of Inside.”

“Oh God, don’t remind me.” The younger man gagged.

“You played that?” he asked enthusiastically. “That was fun. Expecting the worse and getting even worser… worsen.. worstest? Anyway, like that. That’s what happened to me.”

He laid there trying to make sense of everything he just heard. The mysterious mercenary was a product of a grim experiment. A once handsome young man had his body prodded and poked at and whatever else to get whatever they wanted from him. Then to be made into this, it was sad.

“Look at me spewing about my life story boring the crap out of you, tell me something about yourself? What’s your name? Tell me your sign?” he flirted casually.

His shoulders sort of locked up at the thought, almost like protecting himself. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Awww, come on don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“No.” he answered.

“Well, can’t blame you. I mean I got you into this.” he replied in a sad tone. “I mean, I thought if you saw me in here you’d get away before the shit storm.”

“You knew I was here?”

“I knew there was a possibility.” He answered. “And I know you can handle yourself, being the hero of New York City and all, but I know DiMarco. I’ve even pulled a hit for him once or twice. He does shit like this all the time not caring how many of his own men he gets killed, much less innocent people. Thought if you saw me you’d back off. You usually do.”

He didn’t think he was that obvious at actively avoiding the other man. He never really thought he’d notice anyway.

“So, you weren’t hired to be here?” the Irishman asked.

“No, had a nice gig lined up down in South America.” He explained. “Turned it down for this.”

“Why?!” Spiderman asked.

“Oh you think I was just gonna go laying on a beach somewhere and let you get hurt?” he answered honestly. “I mean I’m a giant fuck up already. I don’t need to be the giant fuck up who let the Spiderman die in a major drug bust.”

“No one would have known!” he pointed out.

“I would have.” He answered sadly. “As far as I know you’re healing factor isn’t as great as mine. You would have been crushed to death by all this rubble before even trying to heal.”

Deadpool was here for him.

“Listen to me, I know my words don’t mean shit to you kid.” He spoke. “But this city needs you. All my years here, this place was shithole. Then you came along and well, it’s still a shithole, but you’ve made it less shitty. This city needs you. The people need you… You can’t go dying just like that.”

The weight of his words made it even harder to talk in the enclosed space. He never knew the other man thought so highly of him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d be mocked for his goody-goody optimistic nature; good always triumphs over evil, people are naturally good and all that. He would have expected the same from the masked mercenary.

“And if you died?” he asked the man above him.

“Then it would have been a welcomed release.” He huffed.

His words struck him. Tonight was just full of surprises for Spiderman. Again, the last thing he’d ever thought would happen tonight was be trapped under rubble with the Merc with the Mouth himself. Even less of a possibility was the thought that Merc would actually be here to save him and telling him such things.

“You don’t have a very high opinion of yourself, do you?” he asked.

“How’d you figure?” he asked sarcastically.

Before he could answer back, he could see the rubble give out a bit above the broader man. His shoulders were quivering a bit stronger than they were earlier. He should have known this wouldn’t have lasted forever, but he almost forgot to worry in all this talking with the other man. He could honestly die right now.

He looked up at him struggling with the weight on his shoulders. The broken bones from the pressure. The bleeding wounds from the bullets earlier. The words exchanged in the pass hour or so. From thinking this would be the last man he’d ever want to be stuck with before he died, to actually being thankful for him to even have these last moments left.

He didn’t know what possessed him but he reached out to him. His placed his good hand against the side of his face. The other man froze for a second before he leaned into the touch like a kitten who loved being petted. He could feel the other man’s jawline underneath his hand. He was prompted to believe him when he said he used to be handsome. He could only imagine. His hand travelled lower over his jaw, down his neck, and stopped at were his neck met his chest.

“What are you doing?” the mercenary asked worriedly.

“Shh…” he quieted him down as he searched for where the mask and suit should have met.

“Don’t do that… Stop that… This thing of a face is the last thing you’d want to see.” He said as he struggled as best as he could without disturbing the rubble.

“How do you know what I want?”

“I just do.”

He continued to look for the edge of the mask until he could push his thumb just beneath it.

“Please…” his deep voice begged.

“Trust me,” the Irishman reassured.

Unbelievably enough, it seemed like he did. He stopped struggling to get away. His body was completely stiff above him. The muscles on his neck were tense like corded metal.

He pushed his thumb further into the mask and began to push it up, revealing the skin it hid. The skin looked angry red. It felt puckered and stretched all at the same time. Bumps and burns littered the soft skin. ‘This was what he meant.’ He pushed it high enough to reveal that cut jaw he was admiring earlier. It felt even more defined without the fabric obstructing it. He pushed it high enough to reveal his chin, then his mouth. His lips felt chapped and dry, but soft to the touch.

“Are you done?” the other man asked suddenly, his lips moving beneath curious hands.

The young Irishman could not imagine what he must be feeling right now. He felt like he was shaking like a leaf more from the touching, than he ever did from the weight of the rubble. It was like he was on the verge of tears and it was taking every part of him to not break.

He suddenly pulled his good hand away, which made the other man sigh in relief and not notice.

The younger man had quickly pulled the lower part of his mask up at the same level, revealing just as much skin. Before he could over think his actions, he leaned up to as much as the space could allow and kissed him. Their lips met softly and suddenly. It was mostly a brush of lips, nothing more really but the effect was immediate.

Out of no where the other man moved up suddenly, with sudden great strength neither of them expected he had pushed the rubble and debris off the both of them.

Spiderman laid there in shock as he looked up at the man now sitting up on his knees with both his arms up and out above his head.

“I KISSED SPIDERMAN!!!!!” he yelled.

The absurdity of it all actually made the Irishman laugh his ass off in the middle of all the destruction.

“How did you know that would work?” the mercenary asked happily.

“I didn’t.” he answered honestly, “I just didn’t want to die never having kissed a guy.”

His jaw dropped comically. The once one of the most dangerous hitman now looked like the poster of “Home Alone”.

“I was your first man kiss? That wa- I -… why?!?!” he asked.

With words just failing him at that moment, the younger superhero just shrugged his shoulders as he smiled.

“Hmmm, you mind though?” he asked reaching his hand out asking for help.

“Of course Spiderman, anything for you.” The older masked man jumped up carefully pulling the younger man with him at an upright position.

“Actually, it’s Jack.” He said as he stood up.

“Huh?” he replied dumbly.

“My name.” he explained. “My name is Jack.” He added and more properly held his hand out for a hand shake.

The other man stood there confused and shocked and elated all at the same time, like he couldn’t believe what he had just been told. But he recovered just enough to grab the young man’s hand at a firm handshake.

“Jack? Huh? It suits you.” He said. “I’m Mark.”

“Mark?” he repeated. “Sound so… I don’t know… normal.”

“Only normal thing about me at this point.” He said with a shrug.

It was then Jack had realized they had both kept their masks up revealing part of their faces. He pointed this out to the other man who quickly pulled his down before anyone could see him in the bright morning light.

It was only then they both realized it was dawn. They must have been stuck there for hours. Jack looked at all the debris that must have fallen off Mark from when he stood up. He realized how close he really was at dying if it weren’t for him.

“Are you gonna be ok Jack?” he asked with concern.

“Don’t worry. I will.” He answered as he held the still healing wrist to his chest.

“You want me to give you a ride?” he asked.

“You have a ride?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Well I had a cab waiting for me. Oh shit, I hope he’s alright.” He explained, “Well, if he’s still there he could give you a ride. I mean swinging webs sounds like a pain with a broken wrist.” He added as he reach out his hand again to give the younger man assistance.

The reasoning was sound enough, which still shocked the young superhero coming from him. But Deadpool, well Mark was just full of surprises then. So he took the other man’s gloved hand and let him lead him out to safety, just trusting him that he would.

-end-  


	2. Chicken and Dumplings and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited 2nd Chapter of Septiplier as Spideypool.
> 
> MarkyPool's POV  
> (calling them MarkyPool and SpideyJack based on the lovely comment of Ann)
> 
> Takes place about 2 months after chapter 1. MarkyPool still thinks about his kiss with SpideyJack but does his best to avoid the other vigilante due to a lot of self-loathing. But SpideyJack finds him and confronts him about his absence since that night at the pier. Mainly just talking. Lots of angst in MarkyPools side.
> 
> Also I've replaced Deadpools iconic yellow and white boxes with two of our favorite Markiplier egos.  
> White box (italicized) is Dark  
> Yellow box (bold) is Wilford Warfstache
> 
> again all of this is pure fiction, don't take it too seriously and don't take it to the boys they don't need my filth in their lives. 
> 
> also comments and kudos are always always welcomed
> 
> enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of angst and self-loathing especially from Markypool with his voices from Dark and Wilford no cuss words are used but meant to show what's going on in his head and how his thinking is

It has been exactly 56 days, 23 hours, and 45 minutes since Deadpool had kissed Spiderman.

_Technically, he kissed you… why I have no idea._

**I have some idea… the boy does charity work on the daily…**

“SHUT UP! I’m trying to enjoy my chicken and dumplings as well as my monologue here.” Mark had exclaimed with a full mouth and gritted teeth.

It felt sacrilegious to feel so mean spirited while eating his favorite dish while thinking about his other favorite dish. In all that time, he could not stop thinking about what had happened at the pier nearly two months ago.  
Almost dying has become a regular thing for him. Being trapped under debris of a blown up building wasn’t new. But he was with Spiderman, the Spiderman. Not only that he had fucking that he had actually saved the web-slinger and even got a kiss.

**Like I said… ‘pity’ poor boy!**

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Unfortunately, the voices seemed to come as constant as the memories of the other man. Like the near death experiences, this was common to him at this point. They’d always been there since Canada. They’d always had some sass or mean comment ready for him at any moment. He’d gotten used to it by now. There had even been times his voice and the voices seemed to muddle up all together in all the self hate; one was _Dark_ , the other was **Wilford** , and his own. In particularly bad times, they’d basically speak at the same time saying the same thing in varying degrees of disgust and self-hatred.

But for once, his own voice was actually brought up a bit of hope. Nothing too unrealistic, they made sure of that. It was just refreshing to have him remember something pleasant for once. Something he didn’t have to question that may or may not have happened, like many of the memories before Canada.  
Spiderman was real.

That kiss was real.

_Really not much if you think about it. It may hurt to think about, but we’re just thinking what’s best for you, and making a big deal out of nothing really won’t help us._

“IT WASN’T NOTHING!”

“What’s not nothing?” a foreign voice asked from behind.

Mark was so startled he had nearly fell over the ledge he was perched on. Fortunately, the owner of the voice was quick enough to shoot him with his web and pull him back saving him from a 50 floor fall. Unfortunately, his dinner was not so lucky.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry.” He apologized as he sprinted towards the older man “I didn’t mean to startle you… I’m really sorry about that.”

Mark looked down seeing the speck that was his favorite meal ever. Losing which would normally make him go ballistic seeing as the closest Cracker Barrel was all the way in New Jersey but knowing who exactly was the cause of the fall made it feel less important.

“Don’t sweat it Spidey…”

**Wow! He loves him more than chicken and dumplings.**

_That is a standard for him._

Deadpool chose to ignore them, especially now that he’s in front of the very cause of his deep but unusually pleasant thoughts recently.

“Ok, still sorry though.” the younger man in red apologized again. “I just saw you sitting up here and it’s been a while since we last saw each other so… I thought I’d swing by and… so… hi!”

“Ugh… hi!” Mark nearly choked on his own tongue.

_My God, this is too painful to listen to._

**Please shoot me! Where's my damn gun!?!**

Mark did his hardest to push the voices away once he turned towards the younger man. Compared to last time he saw him; his suit looks good as new and his armed seemed to have healed up pretty well. If you consider seeing last was back at the pier, which wasn’t really true. He’d seen him plenty of times since then.

He was able to give Spidey a lift home that day, at least his cab did. Deadpool was dropped off first at his place and the cab had taken Spiderman away to anywhere he needed to be but only after the mercenary quite literally threw a huge wad of cash to the driver.

He wished he could say he respected Jack’s wishes and let him take that cab to wherever he did stay in the city. He wished he could have been strong enough to just have sighed disappointingly and went back to his little shitty apartment and kept his distance. But who Mark would be lying.

The moment that cab turned the corner Mark had ran after it like a madman. He ran through alleyways. He crossed backyards. He climbed fire escapes. He even jumped over buildings, mostly missing the dumpsters below. It was a montage Edgar Wright would have been pleased with.

It wasn’t until 58 minutes of chasing when Mark found himself incredibly out of breath leaning against a brick wall against a convenience store when he saw the cab in an alley near a duplex somewhere in Brooklyn.

Spiderman had got out and proceeded to climb the fire escape up to the fifth floor where he had gone through the window of what Deadpool had presumed to be his apartment.

He would run pass that alley during odd hours of the day to check. He even turned down a couple of jobs just to be able to spend some time checking in. He never went into the building though, nor did he climb up adjacent buildings to get a clear view through the windows. He thought about it, but even he knew that was too much.

He wasn’t really there to figure out who Spiderman really was. To find out more about this Irish Jack who hid his accent to the world. Not really. He just wanted to make sure he was safe that’s all.

Spiderman only went back in to action after three days of healing. Deadpool counted. He had seen him save the passengers from a trapped subway car weeks ago. Then again on the news saving a dog from a burning building. Hell, he even followed him to find him hanging out on his preferred rooftop in downtown near the Gold Dragon Chinese place he liked to go to from time to time. Mark had seen him a lot, but Spidey didn’t know that. He didn’t need to.

“So…” the younger man spoke. “How are you?”

“Well you know…” Deadpool took a second to compose himself. “Just shooting the shit. Mostly waiting for something dumb to happen.”

“Don’t you usually cause dumb stuff to happen?” he teased.

“NO…” the mercenary answered hilariously exaggeratingly but only to add. “Maybe… sometimes…” until a final and guilty. “yes…”

Which made the other man in the red suit chuckle. Mark thinks if he’d rip his arm off and bash his own head with I if it made the other man in red chuckle like that.

_Doubt the boy would like that very much…_

**I would! Just give me the katana already!**

Again, Deadpool ignored them.

“Hope you’re not ignoring your responsibilities for lil ole me Spidey…” the mercenary teased.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed it’s been pretty dead out lately.” Spidey let his accent slip a tiny bit as he took a seat on the ledge next to the other man.

Deadpool liked the idea maybe, just maybe, Spiderman or Jack in this case actually felt comfortable enough with him to let his guard down like that even for a few moments.

“Yeah, you got them bad guys shivering in their skeevies.” He joked. “Noticed you had been pretty busy lately.” He added which only got him a curious cock of his head as a response. The mercenary worried that sounded a little more creepy than he had intended it to. “I mean… I saw you on TV.”

**Nice save creepazoid**

“You did?!” he asked.

“Yeah, a couple of times actually.” He was technically being honest. “Hey, any reason to see that ass of yours.” he joked nervously.

“You dick!” Spidey laughed as he playfully smacked the other man on his beefy arm.

A long pause fell between the two vigilantes. The sound downtown New York at 11pm surrounded them. A light chill in the summertime air, that or Deadpool was nervously shivering in his place standing next to him. It was just the wind, he thought to himself. The non-existent wind at a sweaty 38C night in the middle of the city.

Deadpool was not panicking.

_Stop lying to yourself…_

“I thought you had left.” the boyish Irish voice finally spoke.

Deadpool look at Spidey curiously, waiting for the other man to elaborate further.

“After what happened at the pier…” he continued.

The shootout? The warehouse exploding? The life or death situation under tons of rubble? The kiss? Deadpool worried thoughts ran in his head as to what the other man might be talking about with such a sad tone to his voice.

**He probably regrets it ever happening… I mean you did almost get the boy killed.**

The mercenary was so tempted to shut **Wilford** up more permanently. The only thing stopping him was the thought of freaking Spiderman out as he blew his head off right in front of him.

_For once, a smart decision._

“I don’t know… you kinda just disappeared.” The other man added. “I thought I’d see you again after… what happened. But you were no where in sight.”

Spidey looked for him? Deadpool was stunned. He’d been avoiding, though still stalking, the other man for weeks. What happened at the pier was so out of the realm of possibilities, of course it only came about from the fear of death. He never thought the other man would want to be near him unless forced. Plus, Deadpool was already so grateful for whatever time he had with the other man, even under tons of debris, that he didn’t want that oddly perfect moment ruined by messing it all up afterwards. The less Spiderman saw of him the less chances he could creep the guy out.

All these thoughts ran rampant in his head. He wanted to reassure the other man that he was always there, really, just following him like a mangy mutt off the streets looking for a bone. But that would went totally against the whole ‘try-not-to-creep-Spiderman-out’ plan.

“I took the job.” He lied. “The one in South America, Brazil actually…” Deadpool put his voice in full display hoping to sound somewhat convincing. “All hush-hush you know… government and cartels and what have you. Like a less awesome episode of Narcos… I mean, a mercenary has got to eat right?” he joked, his laugh getting nervously and nervously high pitched.

The other man cocked his head at the side. The mercenary can just imagine it being exactly like seeing a confused beagle. Adorable. But he knew Spidey was a lot smarter than any beagle and he clenched himself for being called out for the utter bullshit he was spewing right now. One that never came.

“You really do that don’t you?” he asked curiously. “You take money for killing people?” badly hidden disapproval in his voice.

“Gotta pay the bills somehow.” He shrugged his shoulders with a weak laugh.

Spiderman was not amused. “But… do you really have to kill?”

“I don’t get paid to hug the bad out of them Spidey.” He explained casually. “They pay me to get rid of them. To shoot them on sight. To make them bleed. I even had a request to rip another guy’s dingdongs off his body.”

“Oh God! How could you-?!? Why?!?” Spiderman pushed himself off the ledge away from the mercenary, as if being even with in five feet of the other man would stain him with the blood he had on him.

“He had raped about eight kids while he was in ‘vacation’ in South East Asia over the course of a decade. And those were the only ones who actually survived and came forward.” Grief and anger rumbling under controlled in his voice. “He was a politician with diplomatic immunity. It was actually a cop in the Philippines who told me about it. Didn’t even take any money for it. I did it for free. Happily.” He spoke the last few words matter-a-factly that it should have worried if it would have bothered the young hero.

Spiderman stood there dumbly, clearly not knowing what to say next after that. The mercenary could clearly see the battle of his conscience, even under the mask. He didn’t wait for it to resolve itself.

“It’s not an excuse Spidey, it’s just a fact; I kill people.” he spoke with an oddly comforting tone. “I’m good at it. I have my own rules about it; I don’t kill children. I don’t kill in families and no matter how good the money is I never kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“How the fuck can you decide who deserves to die?!” the young hero goes off, his arms flailing above his head, clearly distressed by what he’s hearing right now.

“Enie, meanie, minie, moe!… Killers, rapists, dealers gotta go!” He answered in a silly-sad tune with a hum. “It gets easier over time.” he chuckled.

The resigned sigh and the hunched shoulders told Deadpool that that was not what the other vigilante wanted to hear. But what can he do? Deadpool is who he is.

_What an intelligent argument, bravo._

Mark could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from  _Darks_ voice. He wish he could fucking smother him right now. 

“I don’t get you!” the Irishman flailed his arms again frustratingly.

“There’s nothing to get Spidey! I’m a mercenary.” He pushed himself off his own seated position and moved menacingly towards the other man. “I kill. I maim. I break skulls all for a price… I’m a half chewed-up, spit-out, mangle of an experiment that can never seem to die no matter what anyone or I do… I’m a monster!”

**Ohhh… he definitely regrets that kiss now.**

The hero stood there dumbfounded. Deadpool hadn’t realized he was practically screaming at this point. All the frustration from voices ( _ **don’t blame this on us!**_ ) and the constant pining and self-loathing finally bubbling up to the surface right in front of the last person who deserved to deal with the mess that is his broken down psyche.

Deadpool hung his head low. Ashamed. This was the very thing he was afraid of. Spidey already had problems with him from the start. Then he actually gained some brownie points from the pier and looked what he did with it. He ripped himself to shreds right in front of him. There goes to any possibility trying to be normal.

He turned to leave, not even brave enough to apologize to the other man when-

“You’re not a monster.” His soft Irish voice stated.

Gone was the frustration and annoyance in his tone. Deadpool actually thought he heard a bit of disbelief in the other man’s voice. Like the tone you’d likely hear from having someone pointing out a mistake right in front of you. Like someone pointed out the sky was blue when all you saw was gray. Maybe he was just so used to Spidey sounding right to him that he almost believed it himself.

Deadpool was just about to correct him when a piercingly loud scream followed by sirens from the distance grabbed both their attention.

Before he could do something, Spiderman was already releasing a fresh line of web to the building across the street no doubt swinging his way towards the new catastrophe.

Deadpool stood at that roof staring at the other man as he swung away before the sudden realization that he should really follow him.

“Oh shit! Fucking wish I had web slingers myself.” He cussed before he leapt from one roof building to another desperately trying to find his way towards the hero of New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is currently being written. 
> 
> patience is key... 
> 
> but really speed is key.. hehe


	3. Smoke, Fire, and The Ruined Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally find out what exactly got Spiderman's attention in the middle of arguing with his favorite mercenary. Let's just say, Spidey!Jack doesn't get away unharmed. 
> 
> Marky!Pool is there for him tho...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than it should have. This was meant to be a longer chapter with both their sides, but I thought I'd just split it up first Spidey!Jack's pov and next chapter is Marky!pool's pov. 
> 
> I'll post Marky!pool's chapter the second someone asks for it. hehe

*****Spidey!Jack*****

If you were in New York that summer evening then you would have known that; Lady Gaga was performing at Madison Square Garden, Hamilton felt like it was on it’s 1 millionth production month, and that if you looked up to the sky you might just mistakenly saw a two headed Spiderman with three and a half legs swinging his way from the then fire in Garment District to somewhere up north.

The web slinger who usually swung with ease three times his current speed to usually double the distance was now struggling to swing towards Hell’s Kitchen. The reason for this is because there’s practically 200 lbs. of mercenary muscle currently wrapped around him like a koala bear who happened to conveniently live near the area.

“Ok… you turn a left here… I meant my left…” the aforementioned mercenary was annoyingly giving him confusing directions. Spidey felt like he was talking to a child who was built like a WWE wrestler.

“There!” he finally pointed out almost slipping from the younger man’s slender hips, which Deadpool grabbed on to dear life with no real need for further encouragement. “See that building over there, the one with the smashed up window.”

To say that the building looked uninhabitable was an understatement. Surely it didn’t look that bad but in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen it looked like the epicentre of some hell he didn’t want to be a part of. But beggars can’t be choosers, especially if this one had the said resident fucking clinging to him while ten stories in mid-air after brand new brush with death, and another life-saving act from the mercenary himself.

*****3 hours ago*****

The sirens had ended up being fire trucks. One of the textile buildings in the garment districts had seemed to have caught on fire that night. Once Spiderman had got on the scene he sprung into action and was told there were a total of five people still stuck in the far end of the building. He swiftly made his way inside and got the first three out with no problem. The last two were a little bit more problematic as no one was really sure where either of the two actually were.

Preparing for another attempt Spiderman had doused himself with water before making his way into the burning building. It was already his fourth time in and his lungs were beginning to burn and the deeper he got into the building the stronger the flames seemed to get. Spidey made had screamed into the inferno calling out for anyone possibly still conscious in such a disaster.

In the distance, amongst the breaking of burning wood and brink Spiderman had actually honed into a weak cry for help. He found himself in a small alcove where two women were down on the floor. One was passed out. The other was barely hanging on. He was just about to reach for them when a piece of the ceiling had decided to hitting him on the top of his head and barring him from the women. He shook it off and was just about to stupidly reach out to move the steel beam aside when he felt a firm hand grab his shoulder to pull him aside.

Deadpool seemed to have come from no where and grabbed for the beam himself, lifting it up over his 5’10’’ frame giving the superhero the chance to actually crawl in to grab the two women. While carrying one woman each of his shoulders, Spiderman gingerly yet quickly made his way out to safety where he, as gentle as he could, passed the women to the nearest paramedic on the scene.

He was just about to turn to say thanks to the mercenary when he realized the other man had not followed him out of the building. A sick realization crashed into his mind and he sprinted towards the building again, but it was too late. The entire front of the building had collapsed into itself, the flames eating the very foundation right in front of him and the crowd of New Yorkers.

A different burning ache was caused in Spiderman’s chest the moment that happened. One he couldn’t really put a name to, but he roughly pushed it aside as he shot a fresh web to the scale of the building right next to it. Spidey’s mind was filled with a chorus of ‘no’s’. It was a feeling he was familiar with everytime there was a possibility of not saving someone. But it seemed to have felt even more dangerously painful actually knowing the very person you failed to save.

Out of the chorus of ‘no’s’ his spider senses finally picked up a faint call of life. It had echoed behind the buildings, down the narrow alley ways he did not know of. Slinging another web towards that direction, he did his best to look through the smoke that covered that small patch of the city sidewalk. Finally, he saw a familiar flash of red and black bursting through one of the third storey window and landing on a pile of garbage below. Spiderman swung to action as quickly as possible, diving down towards the other masked man.

He had grabbed him by his muscular arms and wrapped them around his neck while he positioned him on his back. If it weren’t for the five storey death trap nearby it would have looked comical seeing such a broad stature of a man piggybacking a lithe and younger frame. Spidey took his full weight on his hips and shoulders as he shot a fresh web out of the smoke and ashes. He valiantly pulled them out of the smoke and ashes. Spiderman appreciated the fresh New York City air until that very moment.

“My hero…” he older man chuckled against the superhero’s neck, practically nuzzling him.

Spiderman will never admit it, but he was grinning from ear to ear underneath his mask.

 

***now***

 

Jack had finally reached the window of the dilapidated apartment building. He had first, as gently as he could, set the other man down. Finally breathing a sigh of relief as he felt the other man’s weight off of him, Jack just sat on the window sill and let the man enter the apartment.

Deadpool had disappeared in what he assumed was the kitchen and reappeared with a glass of water, which he was able to carry and offer the superhero without ever spilling. Spiderman thankfully took the glass, lifted his mask above his mouth before taking a long and satisfying drink hopefully to wash the ash in his lungs and the pounding in his head. He watched the other man hobble and hop though the living space towards another door. It was only then Jack had noticed the other man’s current state.

“How the fuck did you manage lose a leg in a fire?!” he asked equal parts amazed and disturbed at the sight in front of him.

“Oh that?” his deep voice muffled from being in the closet. He came out with a crutch under his right arm as he answered “Had to cut it off.” as if he was talking about a piece of clothe rather than an appendage.

“Why the fuck?” he asked, both amazement and disbelief still in his tone of voice. Even with just his mouth out in the open air, Jack found almost as refreshing as the glass of water.

“One of those damn steel beams had fallen on it earlier, which is why I couldn’t follow you out the building.” He explained as he clumsily moved towards the light switch to another side of the room. “Tried to lift it myself but it fucking felt like it was molten, practically burned through my gloves. Gonna need to buy new ones. You know how hard it is to find gloves that match this outfit. I mean, I guess you kinda do..  Anyway when the building started collapsing I just thought; fuck it! Pulled my sweet baby out and just cut the damn thing off… Don’t worry though, I burned the end so it cauterized all those pesky blood vessels to stopped bleeding.”

Jack felt nauseous. It was only then that he realized the whole time they made their way through the city he had smelled burning flesh. He had dismissed it as maybe a couple of burns on either of them. He hadn’t realized Deadpool had burned himself intentionally right where his knee was supposed to be.

Deadpool now turned on the lights in the room. He made a disappointing sound and sheepishly apologized to his hero and house guest.

If Jack’s eyes weren’t so damn irritated from the sudden burst of light then he might have actually seen exactly what the other man was apologizing for.

Mark’s living room was sparse but cluttered all at the same time. Really the only things in the room somewhat belonged there was a lazee-boy and the big screen TV with all his gaming consoles. What filled the other 80% of the room were piles upon piles of pizza boxes, cans of soda, a weapon or two hundred of them strewn about the place.

Jack had made a gesture that with his now empty glass of water, silently asking for more. The mercenary had made an embarrassing hobble towards him when the other vigilante finally set both feet in the apartment.

“Don’t worry man, I can get it myself.” Jack had said. Words he’ll ultimately regret.

He hadn’t even made it half way into the apartment when he suddenly collapsed onto his hands and knees. His head was pounding. He was sure he had broken the glass. He was about open his mouth to apologize profusely when something else more sour came out. He had vomited all over the carpet. The burning in his throat now from the stomach acid rather than the ash from the arson less than an hour ago.

Somewhere in the distance he heard his name being called out in a velvety deep yet panicked voice. This was the last thing he heard before he completely blacked out.


	4. Treating the Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as promised... Marky!pool's pov...
> 
>  
> 
> _Dark's voice is in Italic_
> 
> **Wilford's voice is in bold**

 

 

***** Marky!Pool*****

 

Mark hobbled as fast as he could to the other man, diving knees first to the carpeted floor. His heart began to panic as he tried to hold the smaller man up on his hands and knees trying to avoid letting him fall into his undigested meal all over the floor. Mark kept one hand respectably on his shoulder while his other was comfortingly rubbing against his back. He had tried asking the other man what exactly was wrong but only got pained grunting before his weight fell on Mark’s on shoulders. Spiderman had just passed out in his arms.

**What the fuck did you do now?!?**

_How many times do you plan on putting this boy in danger???_

**How’d you manage to screw this up this time?!?**

_I mean I knew you’d make him puke eventually, but this is really outdoing yourself._

Mark knew right now was not the time to be bickering to the voices in his head, no matter how fucked up they could be. He had a bleeding and unconscious Spiderman in his apartment right now and he had no idea how it happened.

Bleeding?

He hadn’t realized the hand that was trying to soothe the younger man’s back was now reaching up to the back of his neck, his wet neck. He peeled off that bit of fabric from the superhero’s mask and finally confirmed that the wetness was not sweat but actual blood.

Ok. Mark thought; blood he could handle.

He gingerly maneuvered the lithe body from his side to his arms. Realizing with his current one-legged situation he was not able to comfortably carry the superhero bridal style into his bedroom.

_Honestly, now is not the time you pervert!_

**Some other time maybe you giant creep!**

He wanted to scold both himself and his voices but didn’t have time for that right now. He swallowed his shame as he mustered as much strength he had left to moving the body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry while he reached out for his crutch. By some miracle he had been able to do both without falling face first onto the floor and proceeded to carry the possibly concussed superhero to his bedroom.

He, as gentle as he could, placed the other man flat face first onto his bed. Given the situation Mark knew the best way to go about this was to assess the head wound that seemed to be in the back of his head. But also knowing the same situation involved secret identities and deep trust issues he hesitant to proceed.

_What’s his trust worth once he’s dead?_

**I mean he’d be upset with you once he comes to, but at least he’d live.**

He hated when the egos made sense.

Mark made his way to the side of the bed closest to Spidey. Thankfully the younger vigilante was facing away from him which made the next step of the plan a bit easier. As careful as he could, Mark began to peel the fabric off the other man’s head starting from the back moving towards the front. He did his best to avoid revealing any part of the other man’s face, at least any part that didn’t need to be seen regarding his injuries.

As he got the mask up to the crown Mark was both horrified and relieved to find the open gash that was the source of the bleeding. The cut itself didn’t seem too deep. Gently, Mark used the pads of his fingers to search for any bumps and tenderness. Glad to have found non other than the actual wound, Mark had excused himself from the unconscious superhero to go get the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Mark had hobbled from bedroom to bathroom getting what he needed to take care of his superhero. After years of his insane healing ability, wounds like what Spidey had gotten were practically like paper cuts to him. But Mark didn’t need to be vulnerable to those sort of wounds to know how to patch them back up. He used to be pre-med, at least as far as his memory can supply him information.

Mark had carefully cleaned up the wound and put some gauze to helped stop the bleeding. With Spidey’s healing factor he was hoping he wouldn’t need any stitching. Throughout the entire ordeal Mark had did his best to keep the mask on the other man. Thankfully it never needed to completely come off for him to take care of him.

**Would be pretty easy to take a look though…**

Wilford had suddenly chimed in.

_Will, are you being serious right now?_

**When have I ever? And admit it. Aren’t you a little curious too?**

_Of course I am, I mean looking at that mask so precariously half off the young man… he’s absolutely tempting._

**He’s a brunet too…**

_Wouldn’t you just like too?..._

Mark violently shook his head as he nearly tripped over himself trying to get away from the unconscious man in his bed. His egos can be cruel knowing exactly what it was that hurt him, what plagued him. Especially now, knowing exactly what haunted him during all throughout his days ever since the heroic web-slinger came into the spot light just a couple of years ago.

Mark hadn’t really noticed him right away, at least not until his heroic antics were taking away some of his very important clientele. Creeps he used to get rid of were suddenly off the streets. His usual bosses who had deep pockets for his violent talents were suddenly captured and jailed. He was more than annoyed by the hero.

It wasn’t until one day months ago while in downtown New York when he finally got a glimpse of who exactly Spiderman actually was. He was just exiting his favorite Mexican food truck when he heard a scuffle in the alley. Having had a really bad day of missing yet another paying job, was really more than ready to ignored the whole thing and get back to his apartment where he could eat his burrito and take care of himself in peace. He was actually worried for a second about being seen and to be pulled into the situation when he heard that now all too familiar sound of web being shot onto the wall and a pair of light feet hitting the ground.

There was a bit more of a scuffle after that the sound of trashcans crashing, dumpsters hitting walls, along with the sounds of a couple of hits and very unsexy grunting. Under all the sounds of chaos he heard the faint sound of.. sniffling? He had thought who ever was the victim of the damn fight was crying in some corner. It wasn’t until the fight had ended when the assholes had actually ran away when the sniffling was coming from the Spideykid. He had helped some guy up from the ground and checked on him when he suddenly started sneezing his tiny little head off.

The guy, who seemed to have been mugged, was kind enough to ask the hero if he was ok which he shrugged of while trying to hide the fact that he was sick on his feet. He had made sure the other guy was ok, and even gave him some cash to get himself a cab after the what happened. Mark just stood by that alley way, burrito getting cold and practically forgotten as he watching a sickly swaying Spiderman swing back up and away from the scene. That was it.

Kid had no fanfare. He had no cameras or reporters. He had no pay to speak of. Mark has heard of guys trying to be like this kid before he had even been born, but they all ended up being pieces of shit in the end anyway. But something in the way the other man in red had just came out of no where, helped, and disappeared just as quickly as he got there  that Mark felt, no, knew this kid was different. He had been following him ever since.

_You really think your little trip down memory lane will convince people you’re more than a creepy stalker?_

**I mean, it’s a cute attempt, but a creep is a creep.**

Mark growled in frustration. Wishing he could just cut the voices out of his own head right now. Some logical part of him did want to wash Spiderman’s suit of it’s smoked and ashed state, but an even more logical part of him figured Jack wouldn’t really approve it. The egos already knew Mark was a creepy fanboy, Jack didn’t need to know that. Not when they seemed to be growing close.

Mark was just happy that Spidey- Jack, was actually acknowledging his existence. Spiderman, even on his best days, would ignore him or for better or worse made his disapproval of him known in some way. Mark was even grateful for that. And now, they were actually talking, and working side-by-side. Mark couldn’t believe it. Laying there in his ratty old bed was Spiderman… beacon of hope, or positivity, righteousness, justice. Not the type of justice Mark has been claiming to wield with the cock of his gun and the slash of his swords. Real justice. Spidey has got that in spades, and the Jack behind the mask didn’t seem any different.

_Are you honestly feeling grateful for the poor boy’s condition right now just so you get the chance to ‘hang out’ with him?_

**Here I thought I was creepy bwahahahaha…**

“Enough!” Mark muttered through gritted teeth as he crashed his fist through his bedroom wall. It was hardly the first time he tried to ‘punch’ the voices out. At this point, the newly formed hole in the wall didn’t really ruin the room, as much as it seemed to show consistency for his clumsy rage quits.

He felt the splinters digging into his skin. The broken bones in his knuckles were throbbing. He noticed he had just missed the wooden support behind the wall by just an inch or two. It wouldn’t really have mattered, his hand was already healing. Thankfully the voices seemed to have quieted down. Maybe they were actually starting to feel sorry for him.

He quickly glanced towards his bed, half expecting a horrified Spidey sitting up and staring at his caveman display. Thankfully, he was still peacefully laying down on his stomach. The spidey suit he was so worried about being all dirty, actually looked decent next to whatever he was using as bed sheets. ‘I should have changed sheets,’ he thought regretfully. But seeing Spiderman laying there resting, he oddly looked more like a ‘Jack’ than a Spiderman right now.

At this rate, Mark might never change his sheets after this.


	5. Taste of Coffee and Copper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. Since my last update I've been hired for my first teaching job. I had studied reviewed like crazy and have finally taken my teaching license exam.   
> So been a crazy couple of months but know i have never stopped wanting to write more of this.  
> so if any of you are not sick of me yet, here's the next chapter of Spidey!Jack and Marky!Pool
> 
> enjoy
> 
> ps.. reminder
> 
> Darkiplier is Italicized   
> Warfstache is Bold

It smelled like Takis. Whatever Jack was laying on smelled exactly like that and he didn’t really know if the familiar scent should be comforting or worrying to him. He opened his eyes slowly and was relieved to see that we was still looking through the mesh of his mask, less relieved to see that the junk food smell was actually coming from the bed he was laying on. Another source of relief was the fact that the throbbing of his head seemed to have eased into a dull ache. Still feeling the effects of what had happened at the fire but not as bad as before.

He tried to push himself up slowly. Remembering that last time he had tried to move faster than he should have he ended up emptying his guts. When he finally sat up properly, Jack reached for the lamp next on the nightstand next to him. With a gentle push on the switch, the little corner of the room now filled with a warm yellow florescent glow.

The newly turned on light did nothing to really reveal anything more about the room he was in the big bed dominated most of the space with it’s ratty sheets and pillows. The floor was carpeted with some interesting stains. Discoloured rings left from multiple drinks, or from a spill or two. The only thing that really seemed to have some distinction was a life sized stuffed golden retriever on the other far corner of the room looking like his personal protector. Jack really hopes that it was never a real dog at some point.

Jack then reached behind his head to assess the damage. He hadn’t realized that his mask was actually pushed up from behind revealing the back of his newly bandaged head. Before he could piece together what happened there was a knock by the door.

Standing under the doorway was Mark. Not Deadpool. He was wearing some dark jeans a red flannel shirt, black gloves and thick dark mask over his entire head and neck. Jack realized that even when Mark wasn’t Deadpool he still work a mask on. Something about that thought made Jack a little ache in his chest.

“I made some coffee.” Mark had held up a steaming mug, it was one of those St. Paddy’s day mugs you get every March 17. That garnered Jack’s first smile of the day.

Jack gratefully took the mug in his still gloved hands, the warmth radiating through the fabric. The just smell filled his nostrils with that comforting scent. He finally took a sip and it felt like liquid sunshine injected through his body finally waking him up from his sleep.

He was just about to take another sip when he heard the crutch scuffling the floor as the other man did his best to quietly limp back out of the bed room.

“Wait, Mark!” He called to him. He could see the other man’s body visibly stiffen from the use of his real name.

Mark hadn’t heard Jack call him that since that morning at the pier. He didn’t think something so innocuous as hearing him say his first name would affect him so much. So much so he didn’t really know what to do.

“Stay.” His Irish brogue sounding so much softer in the morning, it was like music to his ears.

How the fuck could Mark say no to that?

He didn’t, but instead of limping himself closer to the other man he resided himself to take a seat on the foot of the bed with his back towards the other man. The light of the lamp just partially illuminating his broad build.

They both sat awkwardly at that. Jack sipped his coffee silently. Not knowing exactly why he asked the other man to stay. All he knew was that he felt his presence was comforting somehow. Even if Mark had to busy his fidgeting hands by poking even more hols in his already ratty bed sheet. 

“Thank you for the coffee.” The younger man finally got to say. “It’s really good.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I kept it black.” He explained apologetically. “I could get you some milk and sugar if you’d like.” He tried to reach for his crutch to try and leave again.

“No, that’s fine.” he replied, his accent coming clearer now in their privacy. “I like it dark.”

An familiar energy inside him grinned at that, but Mark knew Jack had no idea how his words had affected him or more importantly didn’t know about his ego. 

“How you feeling?” he finally asked hurriedly, not giving _Dark_ the opportunity to gloat.

“Better, now.” He explained after his second sip of coffee. “Thank you. For… taking care of me.”

“Huh well, it was no problem.” Mark replied sheepishly, glad his mask was not only covering the nightmare that was his face but the blush that he felt creeping in. “I mean, I’ve gotten to be somewhat of an expert on treating wounds and such. But usually, I treat them on myself so treating it on you was kind of pleasantly different… Not, that I think you injured is pleasant or anything. I just mean…” Mark rambled.

This was definitely not Deadpool right now. Jack would never associate embarrassed rambling with the mercenary he spent months avoiding. Deadpool was all about murder and chaos. He seemed to stand for everything Spiderman was against. But in all honesty, maybe avoiding the vigilante didn’t give Jack the best chance to know what to associate him with. What he knows now is that Mark can bandage a wound, can make a good cup of coffee, and seemed to get easily flustered around him. Jack had to take another sip of coffee trying to hide the smile on his face.

“I get it…” Jack finally replied, mercifully halting the other man’s worried rambling. “Having a whole secret identity thing kinda hinders a guy from just walking up to the hospital and getting help from an actual doctor. Been bandaging myself up since all this started. Kinda nice having someone else do it for a change… thanks.”

Now Mark really was glad he had his mask on. He’s pretty sure he’d be going full yandere on Jack right now if he didn’t control himself. Mark shook away the image of himself in full school girl at Spidey feet. Bottom line is; Jack was ok, and Mark actually helped.

They sat in semi-silence; Jack sipping on his coffee, and Mark terribly trying to not say anything else stupid. If the other man wasn’t fidgeting right in front of him, Jack would have thought there was some other crisis going on with how bad his spider senses were tingling from the nervous energy coming form the other man.

“How long was I out?” he finally asked, easing the other man from his overthinking.

“The rest of the night. It’s actually past noon.” He explained.

“What? Already? Jeez.” Jack spoke in disbelief. Scanning around the room practically plunged in darkness if it wasn’t for the florescent of the lamp next to him nor the faint light from somewhere deeper in the apartment. “It’s so dark.”

“Oh yeah.. sorry about that.” Mark apologized, again. He gestures to the window Jack hadn’t really noticed until now. “As you can see I don’t really live in the lap of luxury but I paid good money for some fancy drapes that keeps the light outside actually outside.”

“You don’t enjoy the outside much?” he asked, taking another sip of coffee.

“I like it fine, but being a merc doesn’t really grant you the usual 9 to 5 work schedule that most have. So any sort of sleep I can get I try to get when I can get it. Especially after like 50 plus hours trying to hunt a some Russian ex-con named Ivan through the jungles of Panama, a guy just wanna get home and crash in to bed.” He explained. Which though was no a scenario Jack couldn’t relate with fully made the younger vigilante nod his head in agreement. “Plus,” Mark went to add, pointing to his mask. “I think the outside appreciates a all the time I don’t spend out there.” He laughed to himself.

Jack ponder on that for a second. He remembers that night in the pier, being under all that rubble, almost dying then- kissing Mark. The circumstances didn’t exactly give him the best perspective on what exactly was hiding under all that, but from what he felt it didn’t feel all that bad. His lips felt really nice actually. Jack blushed as that final thought developed out of no where. He was really glad the other man had his back to him.

“Well I appreciate this,” he gestured, trying to quell down his thoughts before he embarrassed himself. “My head was killing me last night. What actually happened?”

“After you collapsed I realized you were bleeding from the back of your head. Nothing too serious though, just a gash maybe a concussion that caused you to leave your version of a Jackson Pollack on my carpet out there.” He gestured outside the room.

Jack winced at that, remembering that acid in the back of his throat. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, honestly my carpet has had worse.” He joked. “One time I bought a fuck ton of mashed potatoes and gravy mix and bathed in it till I felt like starch went through every damn pore in my body… my carpet did not survive that aftermath. Think that part of the hallway nearest to the bathroom still smells like Idaho Spuds until now.”

“Oh God why?!” asked horrified at the image in his head.

“Like I said, I bathed in a fuck ton of mash potatoes and gravy.” He answered.

“No, I mean why exactly did you bathe in a fuck ton of mash potatoes and gravy?” 

Mark just shrugged and answered “Nothing else to do on Thanksgiving.”

Both men grimaced after that. Jack from sadder tone that image in his head actually held. Mark from realizing he let his big mouth ruin shit all over again. Mark reminded himself that the other man was already suffering from a head injury, he shouldn’t be sitting here playing victim of his past on a time like this. Jack didn’t deserve that.

Mark felt the bed dip. That all to familiar feel of someone leaving his bed. He was about to tell Jack he shouldn’t be moving so soon after last night, but who was he kidding. He would risk further head injury to avoid himself right now too. Mark really wished he could. He thought it best to leave now and let Jack have the bed to take all the time he needed to rest. The guy already went through a lot last night no need to bog him down with-

Arms. Long, warm, and strong arms suddenly enveloped him from behind. In any other usual cases Mark would be flipping out trying to avoid a suplex of some kind. Knowing exactly who was behind him and who was holding him right now, he still couldn’t believe what was happening.

What was happening?

“Jack?” he practically whispered, even he doesn’t remember the last time he felt so shy. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m giving you a hug.” Even through the thick mask, Mark felt Jack’s answer warmed the side of his neck. “You sounded like you needed one.” He added just before he rested his scruffy chin on his shoulder.

‘Scruffy’ Mark hadn’t pictured Jack with any facial hair. That odd out of nowhere information now filed in whatever memory bank Mark had left in his brain as if it were a precious secret along with how Jack liked his coffee in the morning. It felt almost a little too much for him, overwhelming for the older man but something hard to deny. He should though.

“You really don’t have to-” Mark tried to protest.

“Oh hush… I give great hugs.” His adorable Irish accent practically tickling Mark’s ears.

“I can’t deny that.” Mark voiced his agreement which seemed to run through his body as he felt himself wanting to just sink into his arms. It had been so long, he thought.

“Then you’ll just have to endure it.” Jack hugged him even tighter as he giggled.

Mark felt his arms pulling him even closer. Mark felt nothing but warmth from the back of his head all the way down his torso; a slender chest against his upper back rumbling with laughter, bent knees on either side of his hips and forearms overlapping over his stomach. That damn scruffy chin again practically nuzzling against his thankfully covered neck. It felt so good.

Mark had to stop this.

“Jack I-” he turned towards the other man who just raised his head off of his shoulders and his face nearly meeting his.

It was then that Mark realized the source of that bit of scruff. Jack had his mask up just below his nose from having to drink coffee from earlier. It revealed soft alabaster skin on his cheeks and jaw a tiny bit ruddier on his neck, and a brunet goatee framing stupidly soft and pink looking lips.

What was Mark going to say again?

“You know, I feel like I’ve got to apologize.” The younger man spoke, as he looked down with embarrassment.

Mark gulped, somewhat relieved to get the chance to stop staring at the other man like an idiot. He tried to joke. “I think that’s my line.”

Jack smiled at that.

Mark anxiously gulped again. Jack had a nice smile. Like really nice smile. His front teeth were a little crooked but even that looked perfect on him.

“I’m talking about what I did at the pier.” Jack replied sadly.

Mark thought this was it. This was the moment he knew was coming; the gentle let down. He has been on the receiving end of this only a few times. Most of the let downs in a form not all that gentle. He would have preferred that. There was a finality to harsh words and clear and utter rejection. Gentle never felt right on him. But for course Jack would, Jack is nothing but kind even if it didn’t feel kind to Mark. Coz from all the other let downs in his life, he thinks this might just be the worse he’s going to get. But Jack didn’t need to know all of that.

“Listen, Jack. It’s ok I get it. You don’t have to- ” he tried to save the younger man from this.

“No, I never gave you a choice.” He explained. “I mean you were carrying the weight of a fucking collapsed warehouse on your back and keeping us both alive and I did that to you.”

‘Did what to me?’ Mark thought, confused by how the conversation was going.

“What are you talking about Jack?” he finally asked.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.” He finally answered as he dropped his arms from the larger man.

It hadn’t even been a second and already Mark missed those ridiculously long arms around him, but he had enough of a sense concentrate on actually listening to the younger man.

“I took advantage of you... and the situation. I pushed your mask aside when you couldn’t defend yourself… and kissed you not even knowing if you’d want it.”

“I did.” Mark blurted out.

Somewhere deep inside Mark he felt both _Dark_ and **Wilford** face palmed themselves at his eagerness.

“You did?” Jack asked as if making sure the other man didn’t feel pressured to keep his feelings intact. Mark wasn’t exactly subtle with anything, but Jack had to know.

Mark didn’t care. In front of him was an incredibly sweet boy who saved lives on the daily, asks nothing in return, and he was apologizing thinking Mark wouldn’t welcome a kiss from him. Mark would eagerly welcome a punch in a face, would expect it more too. But that kiss, Mark hasn’t had such a pleasant memory like that in such a long time.

“Of course I did…” The Merc repeated and added with an almost comical reverence “You’re Spiderman…”

This made the young hero giggle with an accent. Can you giggle with an accent? Mark had asked himself. If anyone can do it Jack would be able to.

“Is it the ridiculously tight red and blue latex bodysuit? Or the silly string coming out of my hands that turn you on?” he asked teasingly, trying to lighten the situation.

“It’s everything.” Mark answered easily. “You came to a city from some foreign country. You’re young enough and definitely more than smart enough for me to think you’re still hauling that sweet ass of yours to school. You risk your life everyday to save complete strangers and never once asked for anything in return. You don’t get a stick up your ass for doing all the crazy shit you do. You’re funny and caring and kind in the middle of shithole of a city that wants nothing more than to spit you out. I mean fuck…” Mark for once seemed to have been a lost for words, not able to sum up the ‘everything’ his answer meant. “You’re just…soo.. good…”

Jack sat there speechless himself, but for a whole other reason. Thinking the other man was just a giant flirt to everything that stood in front of him was a big misconception. In some other context Jack would have thought this was a whole big show for  laugh and yet here they were in a middle of a dark bedroom with no one else here but just the two of them. If this were a show, it was only for him.

“and.. well… the skin tight bodysuit doesn’t hurt either.” he added with a smile that seemed to even seep through his thick black mask.

“You giant perv…” Jack laughed and punched him on his shoulder.

“I am what I am Spidey…” he replied dryly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well pervert or not. I still owe you a great big thank you for last night… You saved my life, _again_.” He young hero pointed out.

“You saved mine first.” Replied with another shrug of his shoulders.

“Still… I wanted to say thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it Spidey…”

“Jack. The name’s Jack.” He corrected. Reminding the other man he had more than earned the chance to call him by name.

“…Jack” Mark practically whispered the name like a precious gift.

Somewhere internally _Dark_ and **Wilford**  were puking with disgust.

“Mark.” The young man leaned in to whisper.

“Hmmm…yeah?” Mark said dumbly.

“Can I… I mean.. do you still want to..” he struggled to find the right words to say. “Would you mind if… I kissed you again?”

 ** _WHAAAAAT?!?!?!_** the voices seemed to scream inside Mark’s head.

“Wha-?”

“I mean.. you don’t have to.. if you don’t want to.” Jack verbally sidestepping away, doing his best to mean not to offend.

“Again… that’s my line.” Mark made the slight effort to lighten the situation.

“Stop that…” he punched the larger man again on the shoulder and again he barely budged. “I want a do-over.” He added shyly.

“Huh?”

“The kiss at the pier. That wasn’t right… I never gave you the chance to say no. So now… if you want to-”

“Yes!” Mark said a little to enthusiastically.

“Really?!”

Mark’s mind raced. A million and one things came crashing into his thoughts. Had he brushed his teeth? Did he use mouth wash? Should he use bleach first? Nothing could prepare him for his moment.

_“Nothing’s gonna prepare the kid for this moment either” Dark interrupted._

**“You’re going to need more than heavy duty cleaning products to clean that filth of yours Mark.” Wilford added with a taunting laugh.**

Mark wish they would shut up right now. They should not be able to come through right now. Not when he was in front of Jack and especially not after he had just been asked for a kiss.

_“On the contrary Mark, we most definitely should be here for this.” Dark added. “To stop this nonsense.”_

**“Don’t you see the boy is just being nice.” Wilford added. “But he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.”**

_“He doesn’t know the trash that you are Mark. He doesn’t know the stunts you’ve pulled or the destruction you’ve caused.” Dark interjected._

**“He doesn’t know about the things you’re capable of” Wilford reminded him. “The anger that bubbles in you. The ugliness, and I’m not just talking about that face of yours. No… I mean inside. The violence. The torture you can do… You can’t do that to the poor boy.”**

“I would never hurt Jack.” Mark replied to the voices.

“I know you wouldn’t” Jack spoke, making Mark realized he had said it out loud.

“How do you know that?” his voice cracked the tiniest bit, he knew if his masked were off Jack would be concerned by the tears threatening to shed at this moment.

“Because…” Jack leaned forward, placing his hand against that cut jaw he had touched that the pier a month ago. “You’re a good man Mark.”

Before he gave the voices a chance to disagree, Mark had quickly pushed his mask up just enough to reveal his own lips right before he practically crashed into the younger man desperately searching out his.

His lips were soft and pink and wet. He tasted like black coffee and Irish sweetness. Mark tried to chase it with his tongue. Lips were kind enough to open, and his tongue was welcoming enough to play with his.

Jack fell back a little from the sudden movement but did not push him away. Both his hands now were on the sides of his face, cupping that strong jaw he had held so long ago. The nights after that trying to deny the fact that he revisited the memory while at home secretly thinking of the other man in red. What he had intended to be a kiss was growing into something more; more urgent, more needy, more wet.

Mark practically lifted him up to almost roughly to seat him on his lap. His legs now on either side of the muscular man, straddling his firm thighs.

Jack’s hands scrambled from Mark’s jaw, to his neck, to his scalp still covered by the black mask. His hands finally landing on his broad shoulders. His muscles feeling like corded steel under his fingers. Jack was barely hanging on to the hurricane that was Mark at this moment of time. The younger man nudge him the tiniest bit, to push him away for some air.

But Mark only held him even more firmly against him, going further to lift his lithe body again. This time with his own bulk along with him. He not so gently laid the smaller man on his back, as he loomed over him. His hot body muscled body covering his not wanting him to go. Not wanting him to leave.

_“He tastes good doesn’t he?” Dark began to whisper. “So soft… so sweet… so innocent…”_

**“But strong… and powerful beneath you.” Wilford added. “Not some weak prey we have here… We have a prize.” He laughed.**

**_So sweet. So soft. So strong… So good…Taste him. Take him. Have him. He’s ours now. Ours. Keep him. Keep him._ **

Every word from the voices pushed Mark further which made him push Jack further onto the mattress. He used his size and his weight to anchor the writhing young man beneath him. He felt so good moving against him.

**_He feels good struggling._ **

Mark buried his face in the crook of the younger man’s long pale neck. He gravitated to the warmth. The clean smell of him, even under the layers of sweat and smoke. He smelled so clean.

**_He smells so pure._ **

**_Taste him._ **

He opens his mouth, his tongue chasing the frantic rhythm of his pulse under his soft delicate skin. Teeth scraping his soft hot flesh. He wants him. He wants him so bad.

**_Taste him._ **

**_Bite him._ **

**_Take him._ **

**_Hurt him._ **

**_Ours_ **

**_Ours_ **

**_OURS_ **

Mark suddenly pushed him away. Mark practically leapt as far away as he could from the other man. Scrambling away from the bed. He hadn’t stopped moving away until he felt the hard wall stopping him. The hard and cold floor feeling so different from the soft hot skin he had underneath him merely seconds ago.

“Mark?!?” Jack asked as he came up from the bed.

He was now kneeling on the mattress. Moving towards him. His mask had moved up to reveal  on pale almost elfish ear. The edges of his goatee making the red of his lips even more prominent. The angry bite mark on his neck standing out like an alarm. He had done that to him.

He had wanted to do even more to him.

Mark quickly pulled the mask back to covering his entire face before he curled into himself. His arms cradling his head practically against his own chest.

“You should go.” the mercenary spoke as calmly as possible, still rocking into himself.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“Just go…”

“Mar-”

“JUST FUCKING GO!!!” He screamed.

He kept his head down for what felt like an eternity. He finally heard feet making contact with the floor. Footsteps walking out of the room, further and further away from him. The quick slide of the window, the familiar sound of webbing, and finally the creak of his windowsill until finally everything was quiet again.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Those were the last two words he had thought of before he slowly but surely moved towards the bottom of his bed where he kept one trusty revolver.

The only relieving thought was that the younger man was finally too far to hear the muffled shot before the thump of a body limply falling to the floor.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the last 5 pages this evening and haven't re-read through everything. I apologize for the typos that I have missed. Kindly point them out kindly. And i will do my best to clear them up soon.
> 
> thanks

**Author's Note:**

> Fun lil experiment.  
> All fiction  
> Again.. critique and comments are much appreciated.


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